Hands
by Plaid Voodoo Doll
Summary: Zoro doesn't particularly want to be stuck with Sanji on the ship while the rest of the crew is doing something else where. Sanji is loud, annoying, and brass. And yet... he has such pretty hands. ZoroxSanji


Title: Hands

Author: Plaid Voodoo Doll

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, though there are moments where I wish I did.

Pairing: ZoroxSanji

Summary: Zoro doesn't particularly want to be stuck with Sanji on the ship while the rest of the crew is doing something else where. Sanji is loud, annoying, and brass. And yet... he has such pretty hands. ZoroxSanji

A/N: Just cuteness I thought up... again. I'm not doing the cuteness very well, am I? Check my profile for the reason behind the delay in the next chapter of Playing Judas. This is kinda my reason why you usually see Sanji with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

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Zoro rested his chin against his upturned palm and his elbow against the table. One couldn't really consider this watching the ship, as he was inside of it. But as it was Zoro it could be over looked. The man could hear a ninja from a mile away. Okay, maybe not a ninja, but he was definitely good at sensing the presence of others. This could be made a little hard though because of the blonde that currently stood in the kitchen, just opposite him.

Not a blonde as in some leggy, busty gal with about three brain cells, lots of make up, and one of those annoying high pitched laughs... all right, there was the annoying laugh and the legs, but the rest could not even be associated with the person who so noisily cooked. Sanji had a habit of moving quick, though not carelessly, when cooking. It was out of pure habit due to the fact that their Captain was a bit of an airhead. He only realized he was hungry when his stomach started to say something and would demand food in that instant. Sanji's fast movements meant that pots or pans or utensils could be set down a little more harshly than intended. Now all of that was added into Sanji's occasional comment or complaint at Zoro for just existing.

And Zoro was too lazy to move anywhere else. So he dealt with it like any man would. "Just. Shut. Up." He glared daggers at Sanji. But those daggers seemed to meet a wall of ice as Sanji glared coldly back. The daggers stuck in the ice before falling to the floor. All mentally of course.

"Then go somewhere else, aho," Sanji growled around a cigarette.

"No."

"Then don't tell me how to run _my_ kitchen." Silence. Zoro had absolutely nothing to say to that. It wasn't as if he were going to lay claim to the place. He came here for food or drink and that was it. Though, now that he thought about it, through extension it was _his_ kitchen. He owned the ass of the guy who owned the kitchen. Or was it possible that it was the other way around and it was his ass which was owned. He had to think hard on that for a long minute before he decided to throw the whole troublesome thought process out.

"Mmm..." came the extremely late reply. Sanji rolled his eyes, finely chopping some sort of mysterious purple vegetable. Zoro watched from his comfortable seat. His eyes followed the straight hair which fell over a bright blue eye, down along shoulders which led to arms, which were connected to a rather pretty torso, though this would be ignored for now as his eyes went all the way down said arms to pause at Sanji's hands. His hands were pale and slender. His fingers were long and tapered with finely cut nails. Nothing too long, but not at all looking as if they were constantly chewed.

Why hadn't he noticed this before. While the rest of Sanji was very much a man, his hands didn't seem to fit. Zoro's brows furrowed. He watched the hands move from a knife to some pan and a spatula, to getting plates ready for the two of them. As Sanji got closer the feminism in his hands became more and more visible. The bone structure beneath was so refined looking it made Zoro wonder if those hands were really attached to Sanji's arms. One glance told him they were. As a plate was set down in front of him, the lightly curved fingers let go of the plate. Thin and spidery, they hovered for an instant before Zoro grabbed that hand.

Ever so carefully his ran his fingers over the smooth, fine skin that made up Sanji. More specifically the hand he had grabbed. There was nothing calloused or hard about these hands. If Zoro hadn't just watched him use those hands to cook he would have thought that these hands had never seen a day's work in their life. The only thing that seemed to mar them were the scars on his thumb. "Oi, marimo, what are you doing? Leggo you shitty swordsman." The shiver that ran through the cook's body could almost be heard on his voice. Zoro ignored him, running fingers over and lightly lined palm. He flipped the hand over and traced over the knuckles and the spaces between the bones. That all was attached to a perfect, small wrist.

"You have a girl's hands," Zoro stated. He felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck. Sanji had lifted a leg and kneed him right below the skull. Zoro let go of the hand and rubbed the back of his head, frowning up at Sanji. "Oi, What's your problem?"

"I do_ NOT _have lady's hands. These are a cooks hands." His voice shook slightly with anger. Zoro smirked. So he had a complex about his hands, did he? Was that why he usually kept them shoved in his pockets?

"Look real close." Sanji shoved his hand in his pocket.

"Shut up, teme." He took a seat at the far end of the table and set his plate down. He glared darkly at his food, having lost his appetite. Zoro stood and followed, unable to resist the urge to find some sort of entertainment on this damn boring ship. He came around the back of Sanji and grabbed the cook by one wrist. In an arms match Zoro would over power Sanji any day.

He held the hand lightly. Sanji's head rested against his chest as he scowled up at Zoro. He made sharp, rude remarks until Zoro placed a finger against Sanji's lips. "Shush,"

"Did you just shush me, aho?"

"Yes, now look." He brought Sanji's hand into both of their views. Sanji finally gave in, figuring it would be best to endure this and get it over with quickly. Zoro began to quietly point out all of the aspects that made that hand so much like a woman's. The fingers, the bone structure, the shape of the palm, the fingernails, the feel, everything. All the while his own hands traced everything delicately. And Sanji grew more and more agitated with each soft word.

"You making fun of me?" Zoro had to once again think about this. Was he really making fun of Sanji?

"No..." he said at last. He brought the hand up to his lips and kissed the tips of those lovely fingers. If anything he might actually have some sort of strange fetish for these hands. "They're perfect." Only for an instant did a blush cross Sanji's face, but Zoro did not miss it.

"Shut up, baka. Eat your dinner before it gets cold." He snatched his hand away from Zoro. Zoro let it go freely, pressed a kiss to the top of Sanji's head before obediently going to his food. Rather than sticking around he scooped up the plate and went to eat outside, just in case.


End file.
